Death Day
by Novindalf
Summary: On the eve of her fifth anniversary, Annie Tyler receives some tragic news. One-shot. Don't own Life on Mars.


**Death Day**

**Disclaimer:** All I own is the two series box sets. Which I've just been informed I share with my sister. Which means I'll never see them again. Therefore I don't own anything. Damn.

**Summary:** On the eve of her fifth anniversary, Annie Tyler receives some tragic news. One-shot.

**A/N:** First venture into the Life on Mars fandom. Please be nice =)

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It had been five years. Five years exactly. Five years to the day that she had donned that beautiful white dress and walked, resplendent on the arm of her bursting with pride father, to join her love at the altar. Five years since the marriage where nothing had gone according to plan and everything was perfect. Five years since the wedding car was late, since Gene Hunt had frantically searched his pockets for the rings, only to produce them out of nowhere with a wink at the panicked groom. Since the unforgettable best-man speech which the man himself seemed to have no recollection of ever saying, but which had earned him more than a few disapproving glares from the bride. Since the bride and groom's first dance, where she was twirled around the dance floor, all the while trying to avoid Chris who, in the revelry of the wedding, had decided to drink himself under the table, quite literally, his feet sticking out and into the way of the happy couple. She could have done without the stories of the stag night (insisted upon by the other CID boys, or so the groom protested) but even that couldn't dampen her elation.

***

The doorbell rang, rousing her from her reminiscing, and she stood, smoothing down her midnight blue dress. She'd bought it especially for today, in celebration. Five years was, after all, a fair amount of time, especially since it had taken him almost two years to propose in the first place, despite the fact that they'd known each other for two years before getting involved romantically. Not, of course, that their situation would have been referred to by their peers as romantic; any inkling of such a word in their workplace would have naturally been met by 'you Dorothy' or 'noncey-arsed fairy', or the ever-eloquent 'great, soft, sissy, girlie, nancy, French, bender, Man United supporting poof!'

"The door's open!" she called, before slipping her shoes on and turning off the light. She bounded down the stairs. "Sam! I've got something to tell y-" She stopped suddenly, spying not Sam, but Gene in the hallway.

"Guv?" Even now, after all this time, she was never able to call him 'Gene'. Her eyes darted dizzyingly fast, as if she was trying to spot Sam from his hiding place behind the Manc Lion.

"Guv, where's Sam?" She drew her gaze from behind him up to meet his eyes. They were clouded with something, their depths hidden.

"Annie," he began, gently. She took a step back. He _never_ called her Annie. Even after five years of marriage she was still 'Cartwright'. She noticed for the first time the hints of pity he bestowed upon her, the set mouth, as though he was struggling to control his emotions, the hunched shoulders, the catch in his voice.

Realisation.

"No!" she whispered, frozen to the spot. "Sam!" Gene hesitantly put his hand on her arm, in comfort.

"Annie..."

"No!" she screamed, jerking away from him, eyes ablaze with tears. "No!" She tried to push past him, to run. To run to Sam. He was still alive, she could save him, if she ran fast enough. No matter that she didn't know where he was; she would run and run and run until she found him. But Gene would not let her go. He held her by the arms, restraining her.

"Let me go!" she sobbed. "I have to save him!"

"Annie, you can't," argued Gene, trying to control her flailing hands.

"You have to let me go!" Her eyes burned fiercely, tears flowing freely down her face, in her impassioned frenzy. She fought against him one last time, beating her fists against his chest, before dissolving into inconsolable moans against him.

"Annie," he said softly, barely able to restrain his own grief as she collapsed against him. He held her against him while she shook with anguish. "I'm sorry love, but you can't save him. He-" His voice shook, he choked on the words.

"What happened?" she whispered, her head turned to face the wall. She couldn't look him in the eye. Not now. Not now that-

"He drove into the river." He couldn't tell her that "They found the car, but not..."

"They can find him, though!" she insisted, her hand clenched into fists again in her determination. "He could still be-" Gene shook his head slowly, pitifully. She backed away from him, shaking her head vehemently. "No, you're wrong. He's _not_! He _can't_ be!" She made as if to move past him again. He pushed her back firmly. "I've got to get to him!" she cried. "I've got to help him! You have to let me help him!"

"You _can't_, Annie. I'm sorry, love, but you can't."

"Please... you've got to let me try," she whispered, before crumpling into his hold again. A fresh wave of tears overcame her. "I was going t- I had t- to tell him- He has to know-"

She shattered. She clenched her fists, her jaw, every muscle possible. Her eyes were squeezed shut against the image she so desperately could not bear to see, yet could not escape. Her legs collapsed beneath her, she couldn't stand. Gene supported her weight, and then lowered her to the floor gently. When he left, she thought he wouldn't come back, but he returned with a blanket which he threw over her, then sat on the floor next to her, his arm around her.

She didn't care.

She didn't care about anything anymore.

***

As the vicar finished intoning the memorial service, Gene glanced towards Annie. She had dutifully played the part of the grieving widow, accepting the condolences from the attendees, but her mind appeared to be drifting.

As was to be expected, Sam's death had changed her. She had been granted compassionate leave from the service for as long as she needed it, but she only stayed off work for a week. Even the silent pity of CID was better than the emptiness of home. At least there she had work to take her mind off things, not just reminders wherever she looked. And Gene was there; her rock throughout her grief. Though he was still 'the Guv' to all intents and purposes, when she needed him he had been there. The Manc Lion, however tough and harsh he may be when catching criminals, understood how she felt. And he'd helped her.

Seeing that Annie was about to be bombarded by the vicar, and figuring she could do without that, Gene decided to intervene.

"Come on love," he muttered as he took her aside. "I'll give you a lift home in the squad car."

"No, I want to stay for a bit," she replied, sitting down on a pew. As she did so, she let out an involuntary gasp.

"Annie?" Gene stepped forward quickly.

"I'll be alright," she insisted quietly. "Thanks, Guv."

"You sure you'll be alright on your own?"

She looked down at where her interlocked fingers lay protectively over her stomach; where not a moment ago she could have sworn something had stirred. She smiled slowly.

"I'm sure."

She wouldn't be alone. Because now she had something to care about.

Now she had someone else to live for.

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Obviously slightly AU at the end there, but you forgive =) Please drop me a review and let me know what you thought!

**Thanks hugely to XTimeGirlX for beta-ing =D**

**xxx Nia**


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